Maybe I had too much hot chocolate. All that sugar.
Up. Up. Up.
Like a hot air balloon. Light headed and floating among angel clouds.
Excited. The anticipation. The expectation.
Will I make it? Will I see my name in lights?
I know what's going on though, this want of recognition. I am hoping this time they will take note.
It arrives.
The results are in.
I scroll down the page. My name. My name. Where's my name?
It's not there.
Two minutes ago I had wings, now I'm falling like a bomb.
But... but... but... all that hard work I did? All those colourful words I wrote?
Crestfallen. Disappointed.
And it takes me back to the nine to three and break times and the stiff grey uniform and being that girl the boy never fancied and red marker all over my carefully crafted work. A perennial B student. The middling to bottom streams. Unclassified in maths O'level. Unclassified in general studies.
One solitary A in English though. And captain of the lacrosse team.
Is competition - hot housed in those early years - a good or a bad thing?
I don't like the effect it has on me. Brings out the best and the worst.
But I'm not bitter. Absolutely not.
So pleased at how far I have come.
So grateful to be a part of this landscape of words and friendship and support.
If anything, it helpfully mirrored back my eternal motivation.
What lies beneath.
That after all these years, I am still trying to please mum and dad.
